


i hope your love leads you back to my door

by thefrangirl (fearlesslyfabulousfangirl)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Fix-it, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 04:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlesslyfabulousfangirl/pseuds/thefrangirl
Summary: Some of their men arrived carrying him in a cart, bleeding profusely and barely breathing. That's what Jon had told her. She was too afraid to go and check on him herself.She didn't want to give herself hope if it was just going to be taken away from her.[A post-8.03 fix-it fic where Theon lives.](title is from stay beautiful by taylor swift)





	i hope your love leads you back to my door

**Author's Note:**

> I knew it. We all knew it. And it still hurt like hell.
> 
> Theon Greyjoy, _what is dead may never die_.

Arya is the one to tell her.

She and the rest of the survivors from the crypts had slowly resurfaced from their hiding place, careful to check that none of the dead had gone back up despite seeing them all fall lifelessly in unison mere minutes ago.

With Tyrion and Varys trailing behind her, they approached Jon, who looked as worse, if not nearly, as he had during the Battle of the Bastards years ago. There was still a little far-away look in his eyes, as though he still anticipated that any of the inanimate bodies piling up all around the courtyard could still rise.

"Did we win?" Her former husband had asked.

"The Night King is dead," Jon replied, not even bothering to look at Tyrion in the eye, and bolted in another direction.

They watched him run towards the Dragon Queen, who had just came into their view, looking a bit too somber for someone who was still alive. Though who could blame her? They survived the long night, but they have also lost so much.

Soon after the survivors of the Great War began arriving, dragging their feet along the snowy path the war had left them. Some of them rejoicing as they ran towards their loved ones, some waiting for people who would fail to return. Sansa began searching for some familiar faces among the crowd.

Arya. Bran. Brienne.

_Theon._

They had spent the previous night in silence, just content to be in each other's presence again. It had felt so long since Sansa's last seen him, as though it had been nearly ten years, but then again, the last she's seen him he wasn't completely Theon Greyjoy yet. That time he was still trying to shed Reek off of him, trying to erase the identity Ramsay had forced upon him.

The Theon Greyjoy she spent last night with, though, he wasn't like the Theon she was familiar with as a girl either. That Theon had been a loud-mouthed, cocky, arrogant boy. It was a Theon she wouldn't have wanted to be alone with because all he would do the entire time was tease her as though she was a child. It was a Theon that her mother would warn her from being around, as he was known for constantly seducing even the kitchen girls, using his status as the prince and heir of the Iron Islands as a way to their chambers late at night.

The Theon she now knew was someone who only spoke when he had something important to say, someone who stood with a quiet confidence. He was so much more soft-spoken now, even when he spoke with authority amongst his men. This Theon wouldn't have given Robb the enjoyable youth that he had with the fun-loving Theon of the yesteryears. The old Sansa would've secretly swooned over this Theon.

"Would you like a cloak, my lady?" Ser Davos cut her off from her thoughts, offering her the cloak off of his shoulders. She had taken off hers as soon as they left the crypts, after feeling the winter leaving with the departure of the dead.

She only shook her head in reply. A new arrival had distracted him as it did her.

It was Arya and Bran. Sansa had quickly ran over to them and wrapped them both in her arms, absolutely relieved to see that all three of her siblings were still alive.

"It was Arya," Bran flatly answered the question on everybody's mind.

Arya nodded, exhaustion emanating off of her.

Sansa then looked behind them, hoping to see Theon arriving shortly after them, with a weary smile on his face. But a minute had passed, and he had not come.

She gave her sister a confused look, which the younger Stark understood right away.

Arya gently grabbed her arm, and set her aside. "The Night King stabbed him."

Tears came to her eyes without warning. "Is he dead?"

"I don't know, to be honest." Her sister was trying to be gentle as possible, she could tell.

Sansa nodded in understanding, not wanting to open her mouth, afraid of her own reaction.

"I asked some men to retrieve his and the Ironborns' bodies. I told them to bring his back here first."

"Thank you," she forced herself to say it aloud, thankful for Arya telling her without an audience, leaving her to mourn privately if he really was gone.

*

Some of their men arrived carrying him in a cart, bleeding profusely and barely breathing. That's what Jon had told her. She was too afraid to go and check on him herself.

She didn't want to give herself hope if it was just going to be taken away from her.

She stayed in her chambers for the rest of the day, leaving the responsibility of dealing with the survivors to Jon and his Dragon Queen for the mean time. She needed some time to herself.

She had only come out to sup at the solar after it had appeared that everybody had retired to their rooms for the night.

Which is why she did not anticipate Daenerys Targaryen to be still out and about.

"My lady," the silver-haired woman nodded at her as soon as she noticed her.

"I did not expect you to still be out here, your grace." Sansa politely replied.

"And yet, here I am."

"Here you are."

"Have you gone and seen Theon Greyjoy yet?" Daenerys asked in a low voice. "I hear is already doing well." She noticed the wavering in the queen's tone.

"I hope he is," Sansa sincerely responded. "I will be asking Maester Wolkan after his health in the morrow."

"That is good," The Dragon Queen said sadly. "I reckon you two have a certain bond?"

"He saved my life, your grace. I wouldn't be here without him."

"Ah," she nodded in understanding. "A friendship like that is bound to survive any strife."

And that was when Sansa realized that the Dragon Queen had been terribly hurt by the lost of Ser Jorah Mormont. "I am very sorry to hear about the loss of Ser Jorah, your grace. I have heard that he is a very dear friend."

"He was very dear to me, yes," Daenerys stood from where she sat and turned to Sansa before walking away. "Sometimes I wished I could have spent more time with my dear friend."

Sansa understood the advice beneath what the Dragon Queen had said.

*

She follows her own advice and looks the truth in the face.

She was terrified of asking about Theon because she strongly wished he would have just stayed with his sister in the Iron Islands and kept himself safe from the Night King and his army of the dead, but instead he decided to come back and fight for her family. She was terrified of what it meant and how much it meant to her. She was terrified because if it meant that much, then it will hurt as much to lose him.

But she goes and sees him anyway, because what if he was well? It would mean that after all that he's suffered— after all they've suffered, they would have that window of opportunity to find some happiness in a world without the threat of a Great War.

Maester Wolkan graciously answered all her inquiries without expecting her to explain herself in return. She finds that Theon had regained his steady breathing but was still unconcious, and for Sansa, that was enough.

*

She goes to see him later that day, and finds him sleeping soundly in his old quarters, one that was quite far from the Starks' own personal chambers but still nearer than Jon's had ever been back then. She never had the chance to set foot in his room before, but watching him sleep, she thinks to herself how the image of him in that room looked so right, as though it was a sight she saw every single day. It looked like it was where he truly belonged. Winterfell was Theon's home. He belonged with them.

She sits on a stool by the foot of his bed and looks at his face, now free from the dirt and grime most soldiers had acquired during the battle, and notices how peaceful his face looked without the perpetual worry etched on his face since his time with Ramsay. It was nice to see that peacefulness on his face, but she would be lying if she didn't admit that she missed the cocky smirk he always had on his face all those years ago.

The next few days Theon was still in the same condition, but Sansa would make it a point to visit him every day, just so he had someone in the room with him.

She had gone back to her usual routines. She cannot leave her people to fend for themselves. Jon is off to fight in the Dragon Queen's war along with most of their Northern soldiers and although she has not completely warmed up to Daenerys yet, she hoped they would win this final war and rip the crown off of Cersei's cold dead hands.

*

It was Arya who told her.

She was in the courtyard with Brienne, watching Jaime Lannister sparring with Podrick, demonstrating their sword-fighting strategies to the children who want to learn how to fight.

"Sansa," her sister had called.

"Lady Arya," Brienne bowed in greeting.

Arya's face scrunched up at being called a lady. "Ser Brienne," She nodded at the knight anyway before turning to her sister. "Sansa, someone has sent for you."

The first thing she thought was _Bran?_ But she remembered he would be in the Godswood during this time of the day and he would have no use for her.

"It's Theon." Arya replied, and Sansa ran off without a second thought.

*

She swung the door open without knocking.

"My lady," she heard Maester Wolkan say, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

Because sitting upright on the bed, with a small smile on his face, was Theon Greyjoy.

"Theon," she breathed.

"My lady," he kept the smile on, his eyes not breaking away from hers.

"You're awake," she walked over to him, nodded at Maester Wolkan as he left Theon's chambers.

"I am. I'm alive." He said with a hint of disbelief in his voice. As though he had expected to die when decided to protect Bran in the Godswood.

"You are alive," she reaffirmed. "Maester Wolkan says that the spear had missed your heart by a small distance."

Theon's eyes roamed her face. "Bran?" He asked, hope blatant on his face.

"He's alright. Arya killed the Night King." She said, but she did not wish to talk about that anymore. That was all in the past. She does not want to look back. All everyone has to do now is to move forward.

"She did?" His face lit up, a sight Sansa had not seen since Robb was alive. "What a scene that must've been," he thoughtfully said.

Sansa simply nodded. She wanted to say many things but she didn't know how to say them. Years ago, she would've just bluntly told him whatever was on her mind, be it something nice or mean, but in that moment, she was tongue-tied. And so she settles for the loudest thought in her mind.

"I'm glad you're alive, Theon," she said softly, a little angry at herself for being afraid to say that she wasn't just glad, she was ecstatic.

He smiled up at her. "I don't regret coming, you know," he said, almost a whisper. "I've done many things that I regret, and this isn't one of them."

His eyes told her things he might not ever say out loud, and to Sansa, that was enough.

"Sansa," he began. "I know I don't deserve—"

"But I'm here anyway," she smiled down at him, clasping his hand.

"Sansa..."

"I'll be here by your side."

And there she'll stay.


End file.
